


Still Doll

by Luenetta



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Jointed Doll AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luenetta/pseuds/Luenetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's your pride and joy; glass red eyes and airbrushed resin skin. You take the newly detailed hand to him and pop it into place, taking a moment and holding it carefully. He stares at you and you can't help but feel like he's really watching your movements....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blank

**Author's Note:**

> I missed ao3 so much. I really shouldn't be starting something new but....
> 
> [sorry laughter]

You've been up all night, steadily working on finishing his hand. You smile slightly at the slender fingers before beginning the process of airbrushing them. You've never put half this amount of effort into anything, but this doll was years in the making. Marionettes and puppets of all kinds you had experience with, sure. They were challenging, but ultimately you feel this takes the cake. His joints took a lot of trial and error, and resin was more expensive than you could have ever imagined, especially with the sheer amount you needed. 

He wasn't a small doll, you chuckle momentarily. He was at least five feet tall and maybe some inches, making him life sized and something rare to see because they took so long to make. He could be sold for a good amount, but you have no intention of ever doing so. You airbrush details into the hand, making sure each nail is glossed and each finger dusted with love. 

Once you were finished with his basic parts, you strung his joints together with time, adding details as you went along. You were sure this was just a side project, that you wouldn't get attached and you didn't- that was until you purchased his eyes. 

A kind seller online gave you a nice discount that you couldn't refuse. She said she'd give you half price, but you'd have no say in what color you'd receive. She lived overseas and had no sell reputation, but after seeing her example photos you took a chance. There weren't many places where you could purchase the correct size anyways. 

When you received the package you were blown away by the amount of detail put into the orbs. They admittedly stopped you in your tracks. Not a color you were expecting at all, but there was something about the ruby irises that drew you in. 

The moment you fixed them into the doll, you were hopelessly attached. 

Once a week you check his joints, making sure everything is in nothing less than perfect shape. You find yourself checking on him more than you should, perhaps. It became clear when you started to say good morning to him and staring at him before bed. You shrug it off; if you wanted to talk to a doll, then you'd talk to a damned doll. You take the newly airbrushed hand to him and pop it into place, taking a moment and holding it. He stares at you and you can't help but feel like he's really watching your movements, but your suspicions are crushed when his eyes don't follow you. You're not sure why you're disappointed, and you finish up and brush the bangs of his hair out of his face. 

When you first finished him, you wanted him to be a blonde, but loved the way the stark white looked in contrast with his bright red eyes. You stroke his cheek with a small smile. The countless and nearly endless hours that you had spent on this doll? You feel it's worth it. You can't even regret the large sum of your money that goes into this, even though you're sure you have a problem. His wardrobe is twice as big as yours, but of course it would be. You feel there are clothes that he likes more than others.

You want to cover him in lace and frills, pearls and accessories to make him look more regal, but a strange part of you feel as if he favors simple shirts and less flashy clothes. Maybe it was better to dress him simply, so nothing would try to draw attention away from his features. 

People normally airbrushed the cheeks of their dolls to all hell, but you felt subtle and natural was much better. Any airbrushing or pastels that were put on him were natural shades, making him look more fresh and slightly real. 

Every night you put a sheet on top of him so he won't collect any dust or get cold, but you tell yourself repeatedly that he can't get cold. You made his parts yourself and know he's empty in there, but it's easy to forget sometimes when he looks and feels so real. He's hollow, no matter how important he is to you. In fact, heat was bad for resin, so you always kept the apartment and a relatively cold temperature on purpose. 

You named him Dave years ago ironically, it being the most undoll-like name you could conjure up at the time, but it slowly became something less ironic and more endearing. When you had big jobs you'd glance back at him, tell him you'd get back to him soon. 

Your biggest issue with Dave is his expression. His appearance is just the way you want it, but you wish there was a way to make him smile. Every day if you smile at all it's for him, and every day he stares back at you vacantly and expressionless. You know it's your fault, and you're afraid if you try to alter it you'll just damage the resin. 

"Why won't you smile for me darlin?"

You sigh, turning off the light and bidding him good night and heading to your room, then roll your eyes when you realize that you forgot to cover him up. He'd be okay for a night but you wouldn't be able to rest as well unless he was. You grumble to yourself and go back to him. 

Your heart sinks into your stomach when you open the door and his posture is completely different then it was when you left. He looked....upset. Dave's face was tilted down, buried in his hands as if he was ashamed of something. To be honest, the only thing that could go through your mind was how the fuck did his posture change? You stare nervously before putting the sheet ontop of him and leave the room at record speed. You slam the door shut and exhale. 

You probably won't be able to get to sleep for a while now, but you retire to your futon to numb your brain by mindlessly watching flashing reality shows and infomercials until you drift off.

The next morning you wake up with a sheet on top of you.


	2. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave -->

You stare at his back, patiently waiting for him to say good night to you. It took you a long time to understand what he was saying, but you liked it even when you couldn't. When you heard the low hum of his voice, it made you feel warm; it made you feel. The more he talks to you and shows you, the more you understand. 

You wish he'd take more breaks, and you dislike it when he falls asleep at his desk. It's considerably cold in his workspace, and you've noticed that sometimes when he spends the night   
passed out at that desk, he gets up the next morning sniffling and groaning. 

Next to hearing his voice, waiting for him is your favorite thing. It would have been your favorite, but you hate it when he puts that ridiculous sheet on you and then leaves it there all night. How are you supposed to see what's around you with something on top of your head? You have no idea why he does it. You're not sure why he does a lot of odd things, but you hope to be able to watch him long enough to find out. You want to follow him out of his dusty little workspace and see where the door leads. 

Unfortunately, you're stuck. You've been practicing for a very long time, but you can't stand more than a few seconds. You can shift your joints with great effort, but standing is quite the stretch. To make things worse, it never works when he's watching you. It's a cruel reality, but you feel as if you begin to resent it you'll lose what consciousness you have. You wouldn't be able to hear him humming as he did his work or smile or have him ask you questions. 

It was his questions that really got to you. He'd quietly ask you how you were doing sometimes, and you'd try your hardest to answer, but it didn't work. Today you're missing your hand, but you see him working on it. You don't know how he makes things the way he does, but you know it must be very special and take a lot of focus, so you stop yourself from trying to speak. The last thing you want to do is disturb him while he's working so hard on something for you. You watch him closely as he puts your hand into place, and he holds it in his. His hands are so nice, and much more lively than yours. Your nails are plain and glossy, while his look warm and lovely. You can't really feel it, but you see how alive it looks against yours. You have always watched, observed, learned bit by tiny bit each day, but you can't feel. That was, until now. 

You never truly felt anything until the painful twinge in your chest when he asks you to smile for him. 

His voice was soft and genuine, a simple request for an expression and you couldn't give it to him. You feel a pressure in your chest and you want it to stop. It's not a dull pain, but a sharp piercing one that you don't understand. You think it'll stop soon, but the disappointed glance he gives you before leaving makes it so much worse. 

When the door clicks closed you're at a complete loss at what to do. The feeling is overwhelming, and you hang your head in your hands, wanting so badly to apologize and smile and fix your face but you can't. You're just a doll, and you've failed. He doesn't ask for anything of you. He's poured so much into you.

He comes back for a moment and you get hopeful, but it's soon crushed when he covers you up with a white sheet and you hear him turn to leave. Could he not bare to look at you anymore? What if he didn't want to tell you goodnight or touch your hair? What if he was sick of you and wanted to start on a newer, better project?

You have to do something. 

Your joints make a noise when they press against each other, and it's a struggle but you manage to use the arms rests of your chair for enough balance to stand on your feet. You movements are staggered and you know you should stop for the night, but you push yourself harder. You pull the sheet off of yourself and hold onto it, not sure where to put it. The twinge in your chest becomes a bit more intense and you rest your hand there briefly before grabbing onto the doorknob for balance. 

You never imagined actually leaving the room, and it's a bit intimidating turning the knob, but you need to get to him. You expect the outside of the workroom to be huge and scary, but when you open the door you immediately see a wall and a hall on both sides. What if you went the wrong way and stopped moving or couldn't find him? 

Turning back is considered, but you see a light glow flicker from the right and immediately urge towards it. The hallways feels longer than it probably is, and the joints in your ankles clearly aren't prepared for the sudden movement. You immediately notice a large flat screen, flashing colors and making noises. You stare at it blankly, trying to figure out what it means, but your focus is caught when a noise behind you startles you. A light snore. 

A wave of warmth washes over you when you see him asleep, and you watch his chest rise and fall with all the admiration in the world. You want to curl up beside him but you're cold and hard and uncomfortable, and you'd probably disturb his rest. You're glad you didn't make much noise on your way there. 

He looks a bit cold you figure, by the way he's holding his arms. Your fingers tremble nervously as you hold up the sheet, carefully placing it on top of him. You hope that it helps; maybe if you were to cover him up each night like he did for you, he'd forgive your absent smile and emotionless features. 

You return to the work room and sit in your chair proudly, a sense of accomplishment buzzing in your stomach. You were able to leave the room and do him a favor. It was a start, you figure. You fold your hands into your lap and rest easy, once again patiently waiting for the sun to rise and for him to tell you good morning.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you could doodle, I would love it if you'd draw something for this! I'd write you something in return if you'd like. Thanks!


End file.
